Just Business
by aliveagain
Summary: Amina Fitzgerald is the entertainment world's go-to gal for all things controversy. The WWE called upon her to save Seth Rollins' career after a huge scandal threatened to destroy him, and now that Dean Ambrose is in trouble she is back in a place she vowed never to be again. After all, in this business, nothing is ever "just business".
1. The Golden Boy

**Just Business**

 **1\. The Golden Boy**

 ** _2015_**

 _"So let me get this straight. You called me and flew me halfway across the country because the current number one contender for the world championship and your all-round golden boy has had an extremely loving and loyal woman by his side since his teenage years; the same woman who has seen him through his days wrestling in barns for no money to becoming one of the biggest stars in the business. Through all the uncertainty and turmoil she stuck by him, and he rewards her with an engagement ring. Then, the second he reaches the peak of his career, he decides to pick up a hot little side piece in the form of one of your rookie employees. And this affair continues for months and months while his star rises and the fiancée gets left in the dark. Until one day she finds out the truth about how she has been made a fool of by the man she loves and retaliates out of anger and pain by leaking both of their nude pictures onto the internet during a live broadcast of your flagship show, using his social media accounts which means that the pictures end up splattered all across the company's social media pages. And to top it all off, the previously unknown mistress is now the internet's hot topic because she may or may not be a neo-Nazi."_

 _The woman took a deep breath and crossed one brown leg over the other. She placed her hands in her lap and pursed her lips, scanning the panel of executives before her with raised eyebrows._

 _"Well, you guys must really care about this guy. Because from where I'm sitting, the easiest way to go would be to just cut your losses and let him go before his reputation tarnishes your company even more. I respect that he is probably a talented guy, and very popular with the fans, but he seems like he's got a hell of an attitude problem and has been a nightmare to manage since day one. But judging by the looks on your faces right now, you aren't exactly ready to send him away. So tell me what exactly you are trying to get out of this."_

 _The suited executives looked around the table at each other until all of the gazes settled on Paul, who sat directly opposite the woman. He straightened his tie and cleared his throat._

 _"Look, Amina," she said with a low but strong voice. "We wouldn't have brought you in if we weren't serious about this. You're the best at what you do, and we need this mess cleared up. The girl is expendable but Rollins is the biggest star we have today. He made a dumb mistake and he has already paid for it personally. He's not perfect but he was made for this business. He's worth saving, trust me."_

 _One of the other executives murmured something under their breath, and Paul shot them a swift look._

 _"Amina..." He continued. "He's immature, stubborn and can be stupid as hell, but Seth is a good guy. We can't let this ruin his career, and we can't let this ruin our company. We're offering you a lot of money for this; are you going to help us?"_

 _Amina sighed and leaned back in her chair, folding her arms across her chest._

 _"Okay."_

 _Every single suit sat across from her heaved a sigh of relief, but before they could celebrate for too long, Amina was already opening her briefcase and handing out sheets of paper._

 _"Here's what we're going to do. The girl has got to go, immediately. She is expendable and no-one will blink an eye if she is quietly released from her contract. And Seth... Let me meet him and talk to him a little, and then I'll tell you guys exactly how we are going to salvage his career and your company's image."_

 _Amina stood and picked up her briefcase._

 _"Have your legal department fax the contracts to my assistant back in New York. Oh, and Paul? Don't worry about your golden boy. He'll be just fine."_

 _She straightened her jacket and tossed her hair across her shoulder, before going to shake the hands of her latest clients._

 _"Lovely to meet you all. Now, if you don't mind me, I've got a meeting in LA with yet another famous dude who couldn't keep it in his pants. I'll see you all in Connecticut on Wednesday."_

 _She flashed her trademark grin and sauntered out of the makeshift office and back into the backstage area of the arena, her fingers already tapping furiously on her phone._

 ** _2016_**

 _"Here is your winner, and the new WWE World Heavyweight Champion – Seth Rollins!"_

The Wrestlemania crowd erupted as Seth Rollins stood in the centre of the ring and allowed the emotion to burst out of him. He spun the championship above his head and headed to every one of the four corners of the ring to pose in celebration. The crowd – whether they were cheering or booing – were fiercely vocal about the man stood before them; who in the space of a year had managed to go from a smart mouthed punk on the verge of losing his entire career, to the most important champion and by proxy the most important man in Sports Entertainment.

As the minutes ticked by, every single major news publication across sports, entertainment and pop culture was churning out stories about the incredible athlete who had just officially become "The Man". Fellow wrestlers were posting all over social media about the unbelievable 'started from the bottom' story of Seth Rollins, who had busted his ass across the independent scene, and then in FCW, and then in NXT, and now in the WWE to accomplish his boyhood dream. As hated as the on-screen character of Seth Rollins was, on this particular April evening there was no man more universally loved than Colby Lopez.

Amina Fitzgerald stood backstage at the Levi Stadium watching the celebration with a satisfied smirk. She barely even reacted as a tall figure slowly came and stood beside her.

"Guess you got your money's worth, huh Paul?"

The two turned their heads away from the monitor and met eyes with each other. Paul grew a grin to match hers and put an arm around the younger woman's shoulder.

"I don't know how you did it," he said, the glee still evident across his broad features. "This time last year _Rolling Stone_ were calling him an arrogant, philandering, full-of-shit punk who won't ever amount to anything in this business. And now they're publishing articles about how we could be the biggest pro wrestling star of his generation. They even called asking us they could put him on the cover of the magazine. Our phones are ringing off the hook with all sorts of publications begging for Seth Rollins."

"Exactly what I told you would happen," Amina replied nonchalantly. "Everybody loves a good redemption story, and now your golden boy has his moment in the sun. It's just up to him to not fuck it up again."

Paul chuckled.

"If he does," the Connecticut native murmured. "I'll be the one to deal with him personally."

Amina giggled and shook her head, patting Paul warmly on the shoulder.

"He's heading up the ramp now," she gestured back at the TV monitor. "You better go and congratulate your boy."

Paul nodded and shook her hand warmly.

"I guess I better." He held her smaller hand in his and gave her a warm, earnest smile. "You did a good job, even if I was hesitant about hiring you in the first place. No offence. I don't know what kind of conversations you had with him behind closed doors but they really had an impact on him. He's a completely different man to the boy I used to know. You really are the miracle worker they say you are."

She shrugged.

"I just did what needed to be done, and he did everything I asked him to do. He may make misguided, questionable decisions, but he's a great wrestler and he loves what he does. He'd do anything to keep this job, trust me Paul."

"Well, I'm more grateful than you can possibly imagine. And next time one of our Superstars messes up..."

Amina snorted.

"Next time, you can call someone else because there is no way I am dealing with wrestlers – sorry – _sports entertainers_ again."

Paul chuckled.

"I don't blame you. But I'll keep your number just in case."

Amina shook her head but smiled as she straightened up his suit jacket.

"It's been a pleasure working with you Mr Levesque," she said in her confident, professional manner. "But now I've got to get back to my real world of philandering politicians and irresponsible Hollywood stars."

The two stood their ground before one other and shook hands one last time before Paul gave a final nod and picked up his trademark power strut as he headed back down the corridor to the Gorilla position, where he met the new WWE World Heavyweight Champion with a warm hug befitting a father and son. Amina had followed closely behind but kept a sure distance, from which she watched on proudly as WWE Superstars and producers heaped praise upon the new champ under the bright gaze of the cameras. Tears were streaming down his face as he continuously pumped his fist into the air, grasping tightly onto the gold title as if it would be snatched from his grasp at a seconds' notice.

She straightened up her suit jacket and headed back unnoticed through the bustling backstage area to the isolated car park where her brand new BMW was waiting for her.

Amina tossed her handbag onto the passenger seat and made sure she was well and truly alone in the car park before dialling an unsaved number on her personal phone. She hesitated for a moment but finally pressed the call button and held the phone to her ear. Just as she was expecting, the call went straight to voicemail.

"Hey... It's me. Listen, I'm heading back to my hotel now. I'm sure you want to celebrate after that big win, but it would be good to see you. I've got a meeting tomorrow back in New York so I guess... Anyway, you know where to find me. I'll be up late working so... God, I'm just rambling. Whatever, I'm not going to lie and say I haven't missed you, because I have. And seeing you out there tonight really brought a lot of stuff back and I guess I just want to be with you tonight. So call me if you do too. Okay. Bye, babe."

She hung up and sighed to herself, shaking her head as she stepped into the driver's seat and gripped the wheel tightly.

"I'm an idiot," she mumbled to herself as she started the ignition and sped out of the arena.

 **Eight months later**

"Amina..."

The brown skinned woman's eyes remained glued to her computer screen as she continued to respond to the long list of emails that had piled up during her short vacation away from work. Her young assistant stood awkwardly in the doorway shuffling from foot to foot, trying desperately to get her boss's engagement.

"Amina!"

Amina sighed and finally looked up from the screen, leaning back in her chair and eyeing her assistant cautiously. She had a habit of coming to Amina's office full of unimportant news and stories, and with the stress that ironically comes with being away from work for a month, the last thing Amina was interested in right now was hearing whatever was about to come out of her mouth.

"Yes, Polly?"

Polly cleared her throat and continued shuffling.

"Uh, well..."

"Polly, is this important?"

Polly nodded furiously.

"Okay, so what is it?"

Polly bit her lip.

"I know you told me you don't want to hear from them again..."

Amina's eyebrows furrowed.

"But..."

"But what?"

"But WWE is on the phone and they said it's an emergency and that they need you..."


	2. The Dark Horse

**2\. The Dark Horse**

Amina Fitzgerald was not a happy woman. The scowl on her face showed it, her clenched fists showed it and the furious march she was making down the halls of WWE headquarters in Stamford, Connecticut definitely showed it.

She had promised herself that once Seth Rollins won the WWE championship she would be done with the company for good. She would do her job of turning the young man's career back around and then get the hell away from the company – hell, the entire pro wrestling industry – for good. No matter how good the paycheque was the first time around, there was no amount of money the suits could throw at her now to make her want to step foot backstage at a WWE show again. After everything? No way.

And Paul Levesque knew this full well. So why, she wondered out loud as she dropped her handbag onto the chair to her left and sat down with folded arms in the large swivel chair on the other side of his desk, did he feel the need to call her up out of the blue begging her to fly out to Stamford for this emergency meeting?

"I've been away from work for a month, Paul", she muttered. "I've got a lot of people offering me a lot of work. NBA players, senators..."

"Hollywood stars, yes, Amina, I get it. Everyone wants Ms. Fitzgerald."

She rolled her eyes and folded her arms tighter.

"What you mean is everyone wants my services. I'm good at my job, sue me."

Paul chuckled."

"I know you are. You did a hell of a job with Rollins. Did you see his Rolling Stone cover?"

"Yes I did. And the GQ piece. And the Jon Stewart segment, and the Jimmy Fallon one, and the Ellen one."

For emphasis she held her hand up and counted on her fingers as she rattled off Seth Rollins's seemingly endless stream of accomplishments over the past eight months. Many of which were a result of her own big media connections, of course. Almost overnight Seth Rollins had become one of the biggest stars in the world; just like Paul had wanted.

"It's been eight months," Amina sighed. "I did what you asked of me, and your guy is now _the_ guy. So why am I here? I told you I wasn't interested in working in wrestling again..."

"This is sports entertainment," Paul smirked. "Not wrestling."

The youthful brown eyes rolled again.

"Ha ha. Let me guess, has Rollins managed to get himself into another sex scandal? Another mistress has come out of the woodwork? More photos on the internet? Give me a day and I'll handle all of that."

Paul let out a wry smile.

"Surprisingly enough, Seth has been very well behaved lately. No nude photos, no racist girlfriends…"

"That you know of," Amina murmured in a sing-song voice.

"Funny. Anyway, if you'll let me finish..."

Amina threw her hands up innocently and motioned for him to continue.

"Good. The good news is that Rollins isn't in trouble this time. The bad news is his former tag partner is. Read this."

Paul handed Amina a print-out of an online news article with a large photo of a man she recognized as Dean Ambrose, Rollins's former Shield partner, at the top. Although she had never really had a conversation with the man, she had quickly gathered that he was known as a sort of lone wolf, a private man who liked to keep to himself and not reveal very much.

She quickly scanned through the article, her eyes widening in shock as she progressed. Paul remained straight faced, his elbows on his desks and his hands clasped together. There was, however, something in his eyes that Amina quickly recognized as fury. She cleared her throat and began to read aloud.

 _"Dean Ambrose has been known as a wildcard since his indy days. With his unique ring style and his scathing promos, he certainly knows how to keep fans on their toes. However, how far does his twisted wrestling character reveal the reality of the man behind the Ambrose mask? Beyond characters and storylines, Jon Good's past seems to reveal a history of drug and alcohol abuse, parental neglect, violence, and many more sordid tales that one would not in this current PG era of the WWE expect of a potential champion. For years people have speculated about the real story of Jon Good's life, and we here at Fighting Spirit magazine have worked tirelessly over the past couple of years to piece together the truth. And what we have found will shock you... Look out for the anniversary special edition issue of the magazine coming later this year to read the true stories, interviews and photographs that will bring Dean Ambrose out of the shadows."_

Amina shook her head in disgust.

"We'll get an injunction. We can't let them publish this article without the WWE's permission."

"We can't," Paul sighed. "If we make them pull the article entirely the backlash on us will be strong."

"It'll make it look like you've got something to hide, which will bring even more spotlight onto it."

"Exactly."

"And if they've got as much dirt as they say they do..."

"It'll come out anyway."

Amina took a deep breath and paused in thought for a moment.

"So what's the big deal? Dirt about wrestlers comes out all the time and it always ends up the same – speculation, denial, brushed under the rug... What makes you think this won't end up the same? Or that they even have any credibility to begin with?"

"It was his reaction to it. There was something too... calm about it. The Ambrose I know would have just laughed and brushed it off. But I think he knows something we don't know, I think he knows they've got something on him. Something that won't be easy to just deny and brush under the rug."

"Have you asked Ambrose what kind of dirt they might have?"

"We've tried. He didn't want to say anything. He seems pretty adamant that he's got nothing to hide, but he's still been acting pretty weird, even weirder than usual. His best buddy Roman Reigns is worried too."

"But he doesn't want you to do anything?"

Paul shook his head.

"He realizes if anything bad comes out his career is done, right?"

Paul shrugged.

"I can't get through to him. None of us can. Not even Roman. He's convinced that it's not that big a deal, that it will go away, but the online gossip mills have already started swirling. His star is rising and his name is getting bigger which means that people have their eyes on him. We need to find a way to shut it down..."

"Without completely shutting it down."

"Exactly."

The two shared a moment of silence as they appeared to stare one another down. Paul's gaze softened and became more and more pleading as every moment passed.

"I know you aren't happy about being here right now. And I know the circumstances are... difficult. But I wouldn't call you unless I needed you. And I'm not too proud to put my hands up and say I need you here. Ambrose is eccentric but he's a good kid. About to be a big star, too. He may be nonchalant about all of this but we need to save him from himself here, you know?"

Amina let out a deep sigh and sat back in her seat. She couldn't believe Paul had, once again, managed to get to her.

"You're paying me extra for this, Paul. And I get to call the shots, 100%."

"So, you're in?"

"Send the paperwork to my office and have your people book me on a flight to whatever city Raw is in next Monday. The first thing I need to do is meet Ambrose and have a little chat with him. We'll do that before the show on Monday."

"I knew you wouldn't let me down," Paul smirked.

"No, you knew that I'm a softy that always falls for a sob story and a tortured soul."

Paul stood up and shook her hand with a grin.

"I guess I knew that too."


	3. There's a Storm-a-Brewing

**3\. There's a Storm-A-Brewing**

Christian Dior pantsuits did not come cheap. Nor did Givenchy heels or Michael Kors handbags, or any of the pieces of designer jewellery adorning Amina's hands and neck. But then again, when your clients come in the shape of multi-billion dollar corporations, no expense could be spared to make sure you look like the amount of money they are spending to bring you in. In the hustle and bustle of the backstage of the Wells Fargo arena where Monday Night Raw was today taking place, the beautiful woman in the white pantsuit and 4 inch heels who was strutting casually down the halls while chatting away on her cell phone attracted numerous head turns and wandering eyes. Some of the more in-the-know crew members and talent seemed already to be well aware that if Ms. Fitzgerald was once again roaming the halls of WWE shows as she used to do many moons ago, there was definitely a storm brewing.

Ignoring the whispers and stares, Amina continued her jaunt through the arena. The last place she wanted to be was within the WWE's walls, but there was something about this story that she just couldn't resist. Of course, she was used to all sorts of scandals. In her line of work, ex-girlfriends with big mouths and high school friends looking to make a quick buck were more common than infidelity in the entertainment industry. In her seven years in the business she had shut more than a few 'blasts from the past' up. But this time seemed different. The amount of mystery surrounding Dean Ambrose was disconcerting to say the least, but his nonchalance towards killing the latest story threatening to expose his past? That was something new. Usually these celebrities would be pacing the room, panicking, desperate to do anything to keep their secrets locked far, far away. But this guy barely seemed to even care.

Amina was surprised to already find him sat in the office with Paul and several other executives, all in stony silence. She read his face quickly, and on his ragged features there was nothing more than boredom and apathy.

"Here she is," Paul quickly rose to his feet and hurried to the door to shake Amina's hand.

"Paul." She smiled sweetly and shook the large man's hand firmly, before looking across the table and individually greeting each of the suits. She stopped once she got to Dean Ambrose, who was still sat, blank-faced, staring at another side of the room.

"This is Jon," Paul said swiftly, leading her over to him. Reluctantly, Jon stood and shook her hand.

"Are we going by Jon or Dean?" Was the first thing Amina asked him, her eyes quickly scanning him as he stood above her. He was a lot taller than he appeared on television.

He frowned, taken aback by her question.

"What I mean," she continued, a stern expression on her face. "Is that if we are going to be working together I want you to be comfortable. I know you wrestlers are funny about the name thing, so tell me what to call you and we'll get started."

He looked over at Paul with a look of disbelief on his face, to which Paul responded with a nod and gesture to answer the damn question.

"It's Dean," he mumbled. "Call me Dean."

"Great." She held her hand out towards him. "Nice to meet you Dean. I'm Amina, and I am going to save your career if you let me."

He snorted, causing Paul to tense up in anger.

"I'll take it from here," he said to his suited colleagues. "Give us the room."

With some murmurs, the executives stood and left the room, leaving Paul, Dean and Amina stood in the middle of it.

"Show some damn respect," Paul spat at Dean as the door closed again. "I called Amina because the predicament you are in right now is serious, Jon. As much as you don't want to admit it, you are in trouble. And she is the only person that can help you."

He let out a low laugh.

"Help me by doing what? Calling the journalists and bullying them into backing off? Offering them some cash to get them to shut up? Or better yet, shutting the whole magazine down, I've heard you've done that a time or two."

Amina smirked and gave a small shrug. That gossip rag that had been on a crusade to end an up-and-coming Hollywood starlet's career by publishing compromising photographs of her had it coming. She wasn't _proud_ of it, but it had to be done.

"Listen, lady," he turned back to Amina. "Thanks for coming out here, I appreciate it's a long way from New York. But no matter what Paul says, I don't need your help. This is just another stupid little gossip piece that will die down eventually. I don't know what you're thinking of doing, but trust me when I tell you that you don't need to do it. I didn't cheat on my fiancée or get my dick pics leaked online. I'm good!"

Amina looked over at Paul and then back at Jon. She put her hands on her hips and pursed her lips as she thought for a moment.

"Paul," she said suddenly. "Can you give us the room?"

Reluctantly, Paul sent one last biting look in Jon's direction before thundering out of the makeshift office. Amina then sat down and placed her handbag on the table beside her.

"Have a seat, Dean."

He shuffled on his feet for a moment before pulling his chair further away from Amina and slumping down in it. Amina maintained the calm, sweet, professional smile on her face as she reached into her bag and brought out a folder. She sat in silence for a moment as she flicked through it.

"I'm sure you think I don't know, or care about you at all, right Dean?" She said calmly without once looking up from her folder. "That I'm just some New York hotshot who gets paid far too much, and shouldn't be here at a WWE show trying to tell a wrestler what to do about his career. Am I right?"

Dean shuffled uncomfortably. Amina continued.

"I'm sure you took one look at my clothes, and my shoes, and my handbag, and my jewellery – all designer, since I'm sure you're wondering – and decided straight away that I haven't got a single thing to offer a guy like you. A tough guy. A guy who's really been put through the wringer in life. A _wrestler_. And I don't blame you. What do I know about wrestling? Right? Never mind the fact that I took your buddy Colby from the chopping block to the cover of Rolling Stone in the space of a year, or that throughout my career people have underestimated me and have, as a result, been very shocked to see just how good I am at my job."

He rolled his eyes and sat up in his seat.

"Like I said," he said just as calmly. "Colby's problems aren't my problems. He loves the spotlight. He wants to be that guy. I don't. I don't care about reputations or Hollywood or any of that stuff. I just wanna come here and do my job and then go home and live my life in peace. The second you get involved with anything to do with my business is the second that all goes away. I don't want your help. I don't need your help."

Amina shrugged and continued flicking through the folder.

"They found your mom, Jon. The journalists, I mean. And your sister and your cousins and your friends from back home and your high school girlfriends and all those people you tried to hide away and keep out of the public eye when you got to the WWE."

At this point, Dean's jaw tensed and Amina knew straight away that she had him where she wanted him.

"As we speak they are un-boxing every bit of your private life and preparing to put it all in a magazine and make a lot of money. I know about you, Dean, I've done my research, I know your story. All those struggles, all those sacrifices, just to get here. I know a lot of people are dying to know the Jon Good story, the _real_ story. Not all of those cover-ups and fabrications you put in your promos and interviews to keep people guessing, no, they want the truth. You may be months away from becoming the world champion and these people want a transparent world champion. They want to know every single little detail about him, they want to be able to understand him. Look at Seth Rollins, all it took was a year of public redemption and suddenly everyone loves him! Regardless of what he has done and the people he has hurt, the people don't mind because at least he's _honest_ , at least they know the truth. Or at least, our version of the truth. They are going to come for you and if you want to be the next big thing, you have to be ready."

She snapped the folder shut and placed it on the table. She looked up at Dean and made sure to hold his wavering gaze. The blank expression remained on his face but she could see his jaw continue to clench, his lip quiver and his eyes struggle to maintain his calm apathy.

"So either you let me help you and we get your story under control and under wraps," she said quietly, leaning forward towards him. "Or you tell me to fuck off and I'll walk out right now and never bother you again. The only problem with that option is that your whole private life and close circle will be brought to the public, and even though I don't know exactly what you are hiding, judging by the look on your face and your reluctance to let your company help you, it must be something pretty bad."

She stood and smoothed down her neat, white pantsuit, picking up her bag in one hand and the folder in the other.

"Either way," she said with a smile as she stepped away from the table. "I am a very busy, much sought after woman, and I don't care to have my time wasted. It was lovely meeting you, Dean, and I'm sure Paul will be in touch to tell me what your decision is. Goodbye."

She gave him a final nod before tossing her hair over her shoulder, turning on her heel and sauntering out of the room; leaving the man in question gaping after her in disbelief. She had barely even made it a few steps down the corridor before Paul had grabbed her gently by the arm and pulled her off to a quiet corner.

"Did it work?"

Amina grinned, and Paul let out a chuckle in response.

"I don't want to have to stick around back here for too long," she muttered, peering back down the corridor. "He's going to take about half an hour to consider his options before realizing that he is royally screwed, and that he needs me. He'll come see you within an hour and reluctantly ask for a second meeting with me. I'll ask my assistant to set one up for this Wednesday in my office, I want him to come and see me on my home turf so we can make it clear exactly who has got the power here. We'll meet, he'll slowly start coming around to the idea, and by the end of the week I'll have a statement prepared in reaction to this little article _Fighting Spirit_ is trying to make happen."

Paul could not stop smiling. He held her by her shoulders, shaking his head.

"You are unbelievable."

Amina shrugged.

"I'm doing my job."

"And do you think he's going to go for your idea?"

She sighed.

"It'll take some time to convince him, I can tell you that much. But it'll be just like with Rollins, I'll take some time to get to know him better and get him to a place where he can trust me. And then I know he'll be down with the plan."

Paul nodded.

"Does that mean we're going to be seeing you backstage on a weekly basis again?" He said as a smirk grew across his face.

Amina groaned.

"It'll take one month to get through to him. Max."

Paul shrugged.

"We'll see about that. Now I've got a show to run. And I'm sure you're desperate to get out of here as soon as possible, so I'll see you next week."

The two shook hands and quickly went their separate ways. Amina was now conscious of how much busier the backstage area had gotten, and consequently found herself heading back to the car park with a strong sense of urgency. Her head was down and her fingers were tapping against her phone. The last thing she needed was to be spotted, especially not by-

"Hey man, we need you in the writer's room, ASAP!"

Amina's stomach lurched as she heard the name being called just a short distance away from her. Her eyes darted around the area looking for another route to take, a place to hide, anything to avoid being spotted by him...

"Stephanie needs to go over an issue with you!"

She cursed under her breath and froze where she stood as a familiar pair of eyes looked around the backstage area before finally meeting hers. His expression was stony, but his jaw clenched and his muscles seemed to tighten beneath his shirt. He was quickly jostled out of the moment by crew members capturing his attention and ushering him away, but his eyes did not leave Amina once. For the first time in eight months, a familiar feeling of dread gathered in the pit of her stomach and made her continue rushing through the corridors as quickly as she could and out of the Wells Fargo arena.


	4. Let's Get Acquainted

**4\. Let's Get Acquainted**

"Amina, I'm so sorry I'm late! The subway has been a nightmare all morning and... Wait, is that your second coffee already?"

The brown-haired PA shrugged off her jacket and scarf and gathered them up over one of her thin arms as she frowned suspiciously at the sight of her boss staring at her computer screen with her headphones in, two empty Starbucks cups beside her.

At the sight of her dishevelled looking employee, Amina took off her headphones and looked up.

"Don't worry about being late; you know I've only got this WWE stuff on at the moment."

She gave a small smile and darted her eyes back to her computer, causing Polly to frown.

"Okay... How long have you been here this morning?"

Amina glanced over at the clock on the other side of the wall, which read 9:30am.

"An hour and a half or something like that," she responded nonchalantly.

"Hm." Polly quickly darted out of the office to drop her affairs by her own desk, before coming back in and quietly shutting the door behind her. She picked up the empty coffee cups and threw them in the trash before cautiously taking a seat on the other side of Amina's desk. Amina sighed and took both headphones off and placed them on the desk.

"Polly, how can I help you right now?" She folded her arms and leaned back in her chair.

Polly cleared her throat nervously and crossed one leg over the other. In her two years working with Amina, she had grown to recognize some of her more frequent habits. For example, multiple coffees before 10am equalled a serious amount of stress and a serious lack of sleep, and coming into the office early and leaving late meant she was trying to avoid dealing with her personal life. When Amina's father was hospitalized with serious health issues four months into Polly's tenure as her PA, the coffee bills racked up quickly and it was rare to see her leave the office any time before 8pm... After arriving no later than 8am. And then when she returned to the office full-time after all the time spent away working on the first WWE account with the Seth Rollins scandal, she would shut herself away in her office barely speaking to anyone. Although the other employees of Amina's firm were more than happy to just complete their tasks and collect their paycheques, the close proximity Polly had to her as her personal assistant made her feel a sort of affinity towards the older woman. Although Amina did not want her to see it that way, Polly saw her as a mentor, an inspiration, even. And she had seen enough to know when things weren't right.

"I, uh," Polly stuttered, unsure of how to phrase her thoughts. Amina raised her eyebrows in wait. "I'm just kind of surprised you're working this WWE account. You were pretty adamant that you weren't interested in doing business with them again. Not to doubt any of your decisions, but it's just surprisingly, is all. And you've been acting strange since your meeting in California with them the other day."

Amina eyed Polly, who by now had averted her gaze to her hands. Then, silently, she unplugged her headphones and turned her computer screen so that Polly could see it better. On the screen was a still image of a wrestler Polly recognized as their latest client, Dean Ambrose.

"Watch this," Amina said casually as she pressed play again. "I asked Robert to find a little video package or something about Ambrose. I came in early today so I could go over it and all the other information the company sent to me before our meeting later today."

Polly was by no means a wrestling fan, but after going to some WWE shows with Amina during the Seth Rollins account, she had quickly grasped just how serious the fanbase was about their favourite wrestlers. From what she knew, Dean Ambrose was a popular up-and-coming WWE name, and the video package playing on Amina's computer screen was full of clips of the man's career dating back to the early, pre-WWE days. He was eccentric, to say the least. Maybe even a lunatic, judging by some of the more graphic matches and promos playing on the screen.

"Intense, right?" Amina said as the package finished.

Polly nodded.

"I know I said I was done working for them," Amina sighed, sitting back comfortably in her chair. "And a part of me already regrets saying yes. But it's like I always say, Polly. I can't take a client on unless I believe in them. And for some reason, I believe in this guy, just like I believed in Rollins. I think we can do good with him. This could be the kind of project I need to get myself back on track."

Again, Polly gave an understanding nod. The firm look in Amina's eyes let her know it was time to get straight to work.

"So," Polly clapped her hands together and rose to her feet. "What do you need from me, boss?"

Amina grinned and shuffled her papers back together.

"Our new client should be arriving around midday. I want you to be the one to meet him at the door and invite him in, offer him coffee, do what it is you do. Then, I'll take him out to lunch in the city. We've got to get him on our side."

"Of course. I'll make a reservation at _Le Chemin Rouge_ now and arrange for a car to come around to pick you up."

"That's why you're on my team," Amina winked at her. "You always know just to what to do."

Polly gave a shy smile and bowed out of the office to get going on the firm's latest mission.

Amina took a deep breath and smoothed down her skirt. As she stood in front of the mirror she gave herself the top-down examination, perfecting every aspect of her look from her dark hair which was today straightened and pulled into a high bun on the top of her head; the winged eyeliner that drew focus into her deep brown eyes; the a-line pink dress with black panelling running down the middle and the Jimmy Choo's on her feet. It was your typical New York City working gal look, and she was sure Dean Ambrose would despise it. She smiled to herself and headed back to her office, sat down behind her desk and eyed the clock. 11:57. Paul had warned her that there was a good chance the Cincinnati wrestler would arrive late for the meeting he had very reluctantly agreed to, but as the clocked ticked to 58 minutes past and then 59, Amina had a feeling Dean Ambrose was only seconds away from entering her firm.

"Amina," a knock came just as the clock struck midday. Mr. Cinderella, Amina thought to herself, was ready for his fairy godmother. "The client has arrived."

"Thank you, Polly. Invite him in."

Polly nodded and returned a moment later with the man of the hour, who was chewing gum and looking around the office with a look of amusement. To his credit, he was wearing a white button-up shirt and a pair of black slacks.

"Would you like coffee?" Polly asked sweetly as he stared at Amina.

"Nah," he replied. "I'm good."

"Okay, is there anything else I can get -"

"Polly," Amina interrupted, staring straight back at the man. "Don't worry about it. Just make sure the car is downstairs, ready."

Polly gave another signature nod and dashed off, leaving Dean looking even more amused.

"Hello Dean," Amina grinned, sauntering over to him with her hand outstretched. "It's great to see you again. You look great."

He shook her head firmly but made sure to drop it again just as quickly.

"Paul and his cronies made me wear this," he said bitterly. "I didn't dress up 'specially for you."

Amina continued grinning.

"I never would have assumed as much."

He gave a curt nod and got back to peering around the office.

"Nice place you got here," he remarked. "The salaries in clearing up famous peoples' problems aren't that bad, huh?"

"No," she said with a wry smile. "And I suppose WWE talent salaries can't be that bad either."

Dean gave a low laugh.

"I guess not."

He broke eye contact with Amina and went to wander around the room, eyeing up the photographs and awards that decorated the businesswoman's office. Amina watched him, noticing the looks of appreciation he gave to certain photographs, such as the one of her shaking hands with President Obama, or the other featuring herself, Paul and Seth Rollins on the night of his championship win at Wrestlemania.

"You must be pretty proud of that one," he gestured towards the photo in question. Amina walked over to where he stood and smiled to herself.

"Of course I am. My team didn't want me to take on the account; they said it would be career suicide to get wrapped up in pro wrestling. But I took it anyway and look how it ended up."

"And now here you are with me, committing career suicide once again." He said dryly.

Amina shrugged.

"If I believe in a client, I happily take them on every time."

"So you believe in me?"

"Of course."

She patted his arm warmly before heading back to her desk and picking up her purse.

"We better get going. We have a lunch reservation."

* * *

Dean scoffed the second he and Amina stepped out of the black Sedan.

"I can't stand this fancy crap," he shook his head at the sight of the restaurant; one of the most popular spots for Wall Street professionals.

Amina laughed and pushed her Chanel sunglasses onto the top of her head, swinging her Kors bag so that it rested on the crook of her arm. She sauntered along in her 4 inch heels, not waiting for Dean to follow along with her. With a curse under his breath, he finally did a moment or two later and could barely conceal his distaste as she greeted the doorman and confirmed her reservation – in perfect French – with the man at the front of house. She giggled as he kissed her on the back of the hand and joked with her as if they were old friends.

"Your table is just this way Amina," he said in a smooth French accent as he led the two into the stunning restaurant, now buzzing with men and women in suits. He pulled Amina's chair backwards and graciously took her coat from her before leaving two menus on the table.

"This is so gross," Dean scoffed. "Why are we eating here?"

"Because this is a business lunch, Dean." She picked up the menu and began skimming through. "We're here to do business together. I'm treating you to a nice lunch in one of the most beautiful cities in the world. Some people would be grateful."

He rolled his eyes, flipping open the menu and quickly scanning the list of items that all seemed just as bad as the one before.

"I'm thinking we get a bottle of wine," Amina piped up as she motioned for the waiter. "A nice red. What do you think?"

Dean stopped himself from opening his mouth to complain again and instead gave a nod.

"Sure," he mumbled.

Amina beamed and began chatting away to the waiter – again, in French.

"Have you tried this one before?" She pointed at a wine on the menu in front of Dean. "It's one of my favourites; I think you'd like it."

"Sure," he said again, as Amina gave the order to the waiter.

"Now, what should we eat?" She hummed as she scanned the menu. "What looks good to you?"

"None of it," Dean replied sharply. Amina shrugged and continued looking.

"I'll order you a steak. Protein, right?"

Dean let out a snort but closed the menu and allowed Amina to order for the two of them. As she did he sat back in his chair and watched her with a bemused expression on his face. From the perfectly coiffed hair and perfectly done makeup to the designer garments that adorned her entire body, she looked more like a trophy wife than an expert businesswoman. She looked young, too. Colby said something about her being somewhere in her thirties when she was working with him the year before, but he was also borderline obsessed with the woman. His whole face would light up whenever he spoke about her and he would blindly do whatever it was she told him to. Maybe out of desperation to save his career and get back in the good books of his employers, but either way, he had nothing but sparkling recommendations for the young woman now sat in front of him.

"Where'd you learn French?" Dean asked suddenly, barely able to make eye contact.

"College," Amina said with a casual shrug. "I minored in French and did a study abroad program in Paris, was engaged to a French guy for a couple of years and now here I am."

He raised his eyebrows at the small tidbit of information she had just so casually offered.

"You were engaged."

"Yup. And now I'm not."

She grinned as the waiter returned with the bottle of wine and poured it out for the two. She sighed happily as she took a small sip.

"Great choice, Dean. This wine is fantastic."

He laughed and shook his head but took a sip. Amina was quick to catch the surprised look of enjoyment on his face as he did so.

"So," she crossed one leg over the other and fixed her gaze firmly on her new client. "The first thing I do with my clients is get to know them. That's why I take them out to lunch for our first meeting, and judging by your reaction to this place, I can tell you're not quite in your element here."

"I'm a simple guy," he shrugged. "I don't like this fancy stuff. I find it silly. And I don't like New York City, either," he grumbled. "It's cold here. It reminds me of when-"

He looked down and his voice trailed off. Amina frowned.

"It doesn't matter," he cleared his throat. "But anyway, I hate New York."

"Okay," Amina said with a small smile. "I'll put that in your file. So tell me more about yourself. You live in Vegas now, right?"

"Yup."

"And you're from Cincinnati originally?"

"Yup."

He took another sip of wine and put his hands back in his lap, looking around the restaurant in amusement. Amina could tell what he was doing, trying to avoid making too much conversation with her.

"I've never been to Cincinnati before," she mentioned casually. "I've seen some other parts of Ohio, but never your town. What's it like?"

He shrugged again. "It's alright I guess. Pretty rough in some parts but it's alright."

Amina nodded.

"I think we should go there," she said suddenly. Dean's eyes opened wide but Amina continued quickly. "I was looking at your WWE schedule and it looks like there's a show in Cleveland in a month's time. We can head out to Ohio a couple of days early and go to Cincinnati for a few days."

"No," Dean said abruptly. "You're not doing that. I know what you're trying to do, and it's not going to work."

"What am I trying to do?" Amina frowned.

Dean stared her down, her innocent poker face causing him to show signs of exasperation.

"I don't want you anywhere near my hometown, or anyone I know from there. I know what kind of stuff you did with Rollins personal life, and I don't want that."

Amina folded her arms and gave a long sigh.

"Okay."

Dean gave a surprised frown.

"Huh?"

"I said, okay. You are my client after all, and I have to respect your wishes. We won't go to Cincinnati."

He continued frowning and she stared blankly at him. Before long, her blank face turned into a small smile and she reached over the table and patted his hand warmly. Instinctively, he snatched his hand away.

"Look, Dean," she said with a low voice. "I'm trying to work with you, not against you. I don't want to step on your toes or get in your way. So let's use this time, here at lunch, to just communicate. You tell me what you want and what you don't want, and I'll tell you what I can do. How does that sound?"

He remained silent for a moment trying to size her up, but her pretty features refused to give anything away. He then shuffled uncomfortably in his seat and was thankful for the distraction when the waiter returned with their food.

"Oh, this looks amazing!" Amina said gleefully as her plate was placed in front of her. She thanked the waiter and waited until he went away again before turning her gaze back to Dean. After he once again refused to respond to her, she simply shrugged and began tucking into her food, her eyes lighting up as she took the first bite.

"Fine," Dean said finally as Amina was enjoying her meal. He was yet to take a single bite.

"Fine?"

"Fine, we can work together. I'll try and be nicer. You can help me fix this."

Amina grinned.

"Great. Now let's eat and then we can get back to the office and I can show you the kind of plans I've got in mind."

He sighed but began cutting into his steak.

"It's Jon, by the way."

Amina looked up from her own meal and frowned.

"Don't call me Dean; my name's Jon."

Just as quickly as he muttered the words he returned to the plate in front of him and focused all of his attention onto eating the expensive food. Amina could barely conceal the smirk that was rapidly spreading across her pretty features.


End file.
